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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598985">Loyal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothra_leo/pseuds/mothra_leo'>mothra_leo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Laid to Rest (2009)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chromeskull is his own warning, F/M, I'm sorry this is one of my personal favorite plot frameworks, M/F Sex, QUent is what I'm calling the other noticeable minion dude, Sawman is original, Vaginal Sex, does she have a canon first name?, for some reason I'm calling her Caitlin Spann, the one who gets scolded about C-7 protocol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:34:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598985</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothra_leo/pseuds/mothra_leo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spann's working as an analyst (this is some time before Laid to Rest 2). Chromeskull thinks he's got a hold on his organization, but Spann falls through the cracks when Preston uses her as part of his misdirection. Spann thinks she's going to get cleaned up as a loose end.<br/>That's not what happens. Not at all.</p><p>(Neither of these two are terribly healthy people.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chromeskull/Spann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Loyal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later, Spann will admit to herself that she'd become complacent. She'd begun to think of Chromeskull as something tame. Predictable. Not someone, ultimately, dangerous to her. Only to other people-as if she was not people. As if his organization didn't depend on many people, all of whom might have their own ambitions and present their own dangers. Silly, really.</p><p>All of that has come crashing down on her.</p><p>It's the middle of January. Spann's been working nights, working on a project for the boss. Florida court cases aren't handled by a unified system; documentation has to be transferred from county to county, sometimes manually and on paper, and the FBI doesn't have access to a lot of records that they really should. That creates openings that she thinks the organization can use. It's easier to go after a target when their encounters with the law are poorly documented-and, sometimes, it's easier to recruit additional help for the same reason.</p><p>Spann cares about the long-term view. Mr. Cromeans wants to do what he does for a long time, after all. And it's Spann's job to assist with that.</p><p>It's a good job that she's done. People are going to die because of it. She knows that what Mr. Cromeans does is twisted, and cruel. That he kills people, unjustifiably, and for reasons that she doesn't really understand. Unlike some of her fellow organization members, Spann doesn't share in Mr. Cromeans' pleasures. She never really has.</p><p>Spann just gets off on the idea of pleasing him.</p><p>What she didn't anticipate was the backstabbing.</p><p> </p><p>Spann should have realized something was up when her immediate boss, Sawman, started collecting her research. She'd saved copies, at least; but he had come to take the hard copy every night that week. He had the authority; he was the one Preston had tasked with exploiting their information resources. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that the protocol stated that nothing was to leave the operations room.</p><p>She'd even asked Preston about it. “Oh my god,” he'd said, in that exasperated voice of hers. “He's your boss. Do what he tells you to,” he'd complained. So she did.</p><p>But Spann didn't technically know where Sawman was taking those records. Later, she'd find it wasn't to Preston at all; and it definitely wasn't to Chromeskull.</p><p>But now, all she has is a summons to the main floor.</p><p>The fabricators aren't working, so the room isn't filled with deafening noise. A few of the transporters are working on the ambulance, stocking it and working on the regional names, and Quent is doing something off to the side. Sawman's just walked in, conveniently.</p><p>There are plenty of people in the room to see this.</p><p>“I can't fucking believe this,” Preston begins.</p><p>“I'm sorry, sir?” Spann asks him.</p><p>“Oh. Let me lay it out for you,” he says. And he does. “You fucking gave the FBI your analysis of the state legal vulnerabilities,” Preston rants, “and they're fucking going to find out about us if I don't fix this. This shouldn't happen. We <em>do not let</em> this happen.” Spann agrees-this shouldn't happen; but internally, she's confused and panicking-and angry. And hurt. How'd they get it? Who gave it to them? It's all she can do to keep her equilibrium in front of one of Preston's famous rants as he lays out the consequences. Policy changes. System updates. The loss of one of their best ways to make sure that Chromeskull can do what he does smoothly and easily.</p><p>“And what is your job?” Preston demands. “To make sure he can fucking do what he wants. Easy as pie. I don't have time for shitty backstabbing idiots like you, Spann. Fortunately,” he says, cocking his head. “I don't need to worry about that.</p><p>“Goodbye, shithead,” he says, waving at her. He's not smiling. Spann recognizes the gesture. She's seen Chromeskull do it, taunting one of his soon-to-be victims as they try to run.</p><p>The whole room is quiet. She realizes everyone is watching; but, and it's a far worse thought, Spann also realizes what Preston means.</p><p>“I can only hope that Mr. Cromeans understands the situation better than you,” she says. Then she turns on her heel, and leaves.</p><p> </p><p>She's in the hallways when her phone buzzes. Her stomach twists a little. Spann pulls it out of her pocket and unlocks it.</p><p>Words pile up on the screen, and Spann's world stops.</p><p>
  <b>YOUR POSITION</b>
</p><p>
  <b>WITH MY ORGANIZATION</b>
</p><p>
  <b>IS NO LONGER REQUIRED</b>
</p><p>And then:</p><p>
  <b>I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. BITCH.</b>
</p><p>The words are there, bold and unmerciful (did he have to design his app like that? Of course he did) and she reads them over and over. Mr. Cromeans bought it. He believes Preston. He thinks she went to the FBI.</p><p>It's over, she thinks. Everything I've done for him is over. I blew my chance. I'm not going to cry in the goddamn hallway, she thinks to herself. I'm not. I'm stronger-</p><p>She cries. Not the easy kind; no simple tear of grief that she can hold back with a glass of water. Spann sobs, and she does try to keep silent, but the grief demands an expression. It's over. Her future with the organization, her purpose, her standing with her boss-</p><p>The thought dips down into her stomach and weighs there with a cold reality.</p><p>Her boss. Mr. Cromeans only does one thing when someone comes to his attention like this.</p><p>She is going to die.</p><p>Spann holds that thought in her mind, weighing it, even as she walks out of the building and finds her car. She is fascinated to find that, suddenly, she is calm. The stress is there, in her body; but her mind? She knows she is going to die, and she's just... aware.</p><p>She pulls over once she's a reasonable distance away from work, and pulls out her phone again. Why did Preston just let her leave? Probably he's trying to see if she contacts anyone.</p><p>Perhaps Mr. Cromeans is the one keeping an eye on her. Spann wouldn't be surprised. But even so, that isn't going to change her course of action. She knows what's coming.</p><p>Even before she starts to reserve the room, she makes the choice to tell him where to find her. It's unlikely that Mr. Cromeans is going to be free to tie up his loose end until the next morning. When he does, she doesn't want him to think that she's trying to run away. No; when the reaper comes, Spann understands that there won't be any escape. The text is short, but clear.</p><p>And maybe, somewhere deep inside where she's ruthless about her personal feelings, she hopes he'll make it quick. If he takes his time, that would involve a lot of pain, and Caitlin Spann doesn't want to make a mess of herself in front of him. No, the idea of a short death is merciful, and it suggests something else that's wildly self-indulgent on her part.</p><p>
  <em>Let him have noticed me enough that he doesn't, quite, treat me like he does any other loose end.</em>
</p><p>She knows it's mere fantasy. How could she matter to someone like him?</p><p> </p><p>The hotel is five stars, and everything about it is beautiful. Gianni Versace turned it into a private palace in the nineties, before he was murdered. Now, the opulent estate is a hotel; and Spann thinks that it is as good a place as any to die.</p><p>More specifically, to wait for Mr. Cromeans to find her in. She has no illusions about keeping control of the situation after that point. What happens after he finds her? Where she dies, and how? Those things will be up to Mr. Cromeans.</p><p>It's also in Miami Beach, and he's conveniently in the area. It's a simple gesture, making this easy for him; but Spann wants to be as clear as possible. There's a kit sitting on the bed; plastic, rope, other necessities. If he wants to make use of it, it's there.</p><p>She didn't create this situation; but she'll make her own actions a statement before her part is finished.</p><p> </p><p>Spann is taking a bath. The tub in her suite is very large, and when she checked in, she knew she would have to make use of it. It's good to relax, she thinks. Especially given the circumstances. She bathes with the sense of performing a ritual purification. She washes her hair, she shaves, she scrubs her skin. It's strange, she reflects, focusing on her body with the knowledge that that she won't inhabit it for much longer. It's remarkably peaceful.</p><p>After that, she runs a hot bath, pours in some pleasantly-scented stuff, and soaks.</p><p>It's then, when she's bone-warm and staring at the ceiling, her bathroom the only place lit in the whole suite, that she spies a flash of red reflecting off the wall tiles.</p><p>He's arrived sooner than she expected, Spann realizes.</p><p>She inhales, slowly, and exhales. That's okay. It's all going to be okay, she tells herself. Grief tries to well up in her again, and she pushes it down. Not now, she says. Now, he's here.</p><p>The dark shape steps into the dimly lit bathroom. Silver glints off his mask. He's got his camera mounted on his shoulder. He's carrying his knife.</p><p>He's on the hunt, and Spann is his prey.</p><p>She's about as vulnerable as she can possibly be. Despite her determination to go out with dignity, Spann's breathing is a little shallow.</p><p>“Hello, sir,” she says. She almost asks him if he found out who leaked the records. Somehow, Spann doesn't. She should. It might be a joke to consider that she could save her life-no one is spared by Chromeskull-but she also thinks that organization security should be a slightly higher priority.</p><p>But he beckons to her, gestures implacably with his gloved finger, and she obeys.</p><p>Spann sits up, moving slowly, and gets to her feet. Water drips as she stands. Knowing that he can see her, that she's naked in front of the most dangerous man she knows, has a certain filip to it.</p><p>He's so much taller than she is. Even in the middle of her impending demise, Spann finds so many things to admire about him.</p><p>What a waste.</p><p>He grabs her then, and pulls her with a forceful disregard for her comfort. Spann stumbles, almost tripping-she knows he'd probably drag her, if she did-and manages to keep up only to find herself pulled into the dark bedroom. He does something with his other arm, sweeping, and Spann hears the kit tumblr off the bed and scatter on the floor. Chromeskull tugs again, and she falls forward, all sense of balance lost.</p><p>The bed. She falls onto the bed, and has no time to recover before she feels him press her down against it. He's pinned her. Spann notices the uncomfortable wetness of her body on the dry bed, but has no time to wonder at how she can even notice such minutiae <em>now</em>. Nothing matters now except what Mr. Cromeans wants to do.</p><p>His knife is at her side.</p><p>The blade skims up her arm, edge level up the length of her limb. Spann braces. She's seen limbs; cut cleanly off, deposited next to the rest of their former owners.</p><p>He doesn't cut.</p><p>The knife scrapes lightly over her shoulder, and comes to rest in the crook of her neck. It stays.</p><p>Spann thinks of disembodied heads. Of long cuts across corpses' backs, shoulderblades and ribs and spine laid bare. Instead, the pressure of his body against her changes. In any other situation, her position would be sexual. Even though it probably isn't, she still aches at how close he is.</p><p>She almost flinches as something cool and hard is laid on the back of her spine. The phone. He put it down on her to tap at it.</p><p>He picks it up off her, and she sees the bright screen as he reaches around. He's holding his phone for her to read. Spann swallows, and focuses on the screen.</p><p>
  <b>DID YOU KNOW ABOUT SAWMAN?</b>
</p><p>Spann thinks fast. Right. Words. “I'm not sure, sir." She swallows again, trying to speak clearly. "I know that Preston thinks I gave your records to the FBI. I know I didn't, but proving that would be hard. ...I haven't had an opportunity to figure out what happened or who's responsible.”</p><p>The phone leaves her vision. The knife is still at the right side of her neck. He's still pinning her down; but Spann thinks she feels a casualness in his body. Or is he always like that, when he's killing someone?</p><p>Chromeskull asks her: <b>WHAT IF I DID BLAME YOU FOR THE LEAK, PIGGY?</b></p><p>Spann breathes in, and out. Think. Think, she tells herself. It's okay. It's okay if you die here. She's hyperaware of the bed coverings under her and the bath scents in the air, of the feel of Chromeskull's suit against her and behind that, his body.</p><p>“I'd ask you to have Preston put someone on it,” she says, analysis kicking in despite everything. “Whether it was Sawman, or someone else, I wasn't party to it. You can't let that go uninvestigated.” She feels tears coming on again, and tries to push the hurt down. “And as for me,” she says, and stops. What should she say?</p><p>Honesty is an option. She doesn't want to be honest; she thinks he'll find her laughable. She shouldn't bring her personal feelings into this. But she wants him to see how she feels. God, she's aching so hard.</p><p>The knife presses just a little bit harder. She knows how sharp his knives are.</p><p>“Do as you like, sir,” Spann says, her voice almost a whisper. “If I'm a liability... I understand.” She wonders if he knows how much of an evasion the words really are.</p><p>He moves so quickly that she's on her back before she knows it. Spann reels and finds herself pinned down again, looking Chromeskull in the face.</p><p>His knife is at her neck again in an instant, and she hears her own intake of breath.</p><p>He takes a moment, then, to enter more text on his phone. It's longer than before.</p><p>
  <b>LOYALTY LIKE THAT IS FOOLISH. BUT I'M NOT KILLING A VALUABLE ASSET. YOU LIVE.</b>
</p><p>Spann reads it, then looks back into the hollows of his mask. “Sir?”</p><p>Suddenly, she's a great deal less sure about how this is going to go.</p><p>He lays the knife on the bed, carefully distant from her, with the phone beside it. And then, hand open, he lays his gloved palm on her throat.</p><p>And squeezes.</p><p>As he uses his other hand to mess with his belt, Spann is reminded that, really, she has no control here at all. Oh, fuck, that's hot. “oh, god,” she mouths, her voice caught. He's undoing the front of his pants-</p><p><em>Can't be, he has a wife</em>, part of her mind opines. Parts of her are rapidly engaged in a back-and forth about what to make of that. <em>Bold of you to assume he cares about a wife. His cover. Bold of you to assume he wouldn't. He's too set on his idea of masculinity to ignore those social norms. Bold of you to assume Chromeskull gives a shit about norms.</em></p><p>No. Stop it. She gathers herself. Hold it together, Caitlin.</p><p>Chromeskull is not a person. Chromeskull is a mood. He's practically a state of being, and it's not like he holds the same morals as any normal person. And he's about to fuck her.</p><p>But Spann isn't sure exactly what she needs to do. And she does want to do what he wants. Or likes. And she really, really doesn't want to step in the wrong pitfall by making assumptions.</p><p>It's not that she thinks that she can live if she makes the right choice. It's just that she doesn't want to disappoint him.</p><p>He loosens his grasp on her throat, and Spann takes the valuable opportunity to breathe again. She wants to ask him to tell her what to do. Show her, perhaps. But she can stuff her insecurities, and give what he wants to take.</p><p>Still, there is one thing she wants to say. “Thank you, sir,” she says, her throat dry. The silver mask swivels a fraction. As if he's focusing on her again.</p><p>Then he lays a hand on her waist, lifting her legs with another, and Spann feels body heat between her legs, and then-</p><p>Oh. Oh, she's more than wet enough, and he's sliding in <em>nice and easy</em>, and it's just so good that Spann's losing track of how to think-</p><p>-She realizes she's moaning, brokenly, audibly, and fuck, if it doesn't feel good to let him <em>know</em> he's taking her apart, he's so strong-</p><p>-he has the knife again. He fucks so <em>hard</em>, and his pace is brutal. She can hear his breath inside the mask-</p><p>-the knife's pressed to her throat, and Spann tries to stay quiet, she really does, and she gets it; it's even <em>better</em> to try to hold back her own whimpers, but even then-</p><p>-She slices herself on it; or he slices her- she swears she can feel the pulsing inside of her as he comes, there's a long exhale of a huff from inside him, and Spann hears what's almost a vocal moan-</p><p>-she almost doesn't feel the orgasm coming, but when it does, it's with Chromeskull staring her down from above and her body shaking with effort-</p><p>He stays there, pinning her down as she catches her breath, watching every aspect of Spann's reactions. Recording them, she distantly thinks. All her vulnerabilities, all her self, on one of those tapes of his. She doesn't look away. She's surprised, really, that he isn't just killing her. Maybe being useful really does mean something after all. God, she can still feel him inside her. It's really good, the way he fills her up...</p><p>Despite her best efforts, Spann loses the battle to stay awake.</p><p> </p><p>The silver skull watches her even as she sleeps. Eventually, he softens and decides to slip out of her.</p><p>This wasn't what he'd intended to do when he'd come to find Spann.</p><p>Well. It was, in a way. She had no way of knowing that he knew what Sawman was up to. Preston had been instructed to leave the matter alone for the time being; to act as if neither Chromeskull nor his primary fixer had caught on to it yet.</p><p>He hadn't asked Preston to go as far as putting the fear of God into his subordinates, though. His goal in coming to find her, this night, was to find out exactly what Spann was thinking, and if possible fix the problems Preston might have caused in dressing her down so publicly. (And in Chromeskull's name. Really. If he'd known, he wouldn't have texted Spann; the goal there had been to allow Sawman to think he was still getting away with things. But Spann had already been gone, because of Preston's initiative. Jesse was going to have to turn more of his cameras on his subordinates to keep that sort of thing from happening again. He couldn't lose control of a situation).</p><p>The idea of apologizing to her was foreign to him; and yet, when presented with a loyal underling who seemed to actually understand him, Chromeskull had found himself trying to do just that.</p><p>The important part is that she seemed to like it. Jesse doesn't apologize to many people. He's had little need previously to settle any disputes inside his organization. He is going to keep an eye on this woman, because anyone involved in any sort of discontent merits his observation-he doesn't actually know if she's innocent of intrigue.</p><p>He pushed her too far, perhaps. He doesn't often fuck someone with the intention of allowing them to get up and walk it off later. That's fine, he thinks. She can probably take it.</p><p>But she liked what he did with her. And, what's more, she didn't ask for anything. Isn't holding it over his head, or demanding that he put his contrition in words. Very good. Bodes well for the future.</p><p>She's not like his wife, Jesse reflects. How peculiar. He's never compared someone from his private amusements to someone in his public life before. Usually, the two realms are wholly separate.</p><p> </p><p>Spann wakes up with sunlight filling the room and a note left on her phone.</p><p><b>ROOM'S PAID FOR THE WEEKEND</b>, it says. <b>REPORT FOR WORK ON MONDAY. YOU HAVE SAWMAN'S JOB NOW.</b></p><p>She's hurting, and she can tell she has bruises all over; but that's fine. Spann feels proud of them. She hopes she'll carry the soreness for days; good bruises stay with you, after all.</p><p>They feel like a gift.</p><p>God, he looked like Death himself, she thinks. He looked so good above me. She holds that image in her mind. I can't let myself lose control of the situation again, she told herself. I can't let anything slip. I can't let him down.</p><p>She'd become complacent; but not only about Mr. Cromeans. She'd accepted his hierarchy as if it had been set in stone. She'll never do that again; she can't let anyone else threaten her position, and, Spann thinks, perhaps one day she'll move even higher up in that hierarchy.</p><p>If she can be vulnerable, so can her superiors. And Preston seems to have a bit of an ego problem. She doesn't dare aim for his position... yet.</p><p>But one day, maybe. Chromeskull needs people he can rely on; and she wants nothing more than to be that sort of person.</p><p>I won't let him down, Spann tells herself. He's dangerous; and I can't forget that for a moment. But I'm not doing this because I'm afraid of him. Every moment that I have his regard, every moment that I might spend in his service, that's another moment of purpose. Of potential.</p><p>And if I can have his favor..., she thinks, feeling the delicious ache in her body. His favor is rare, indeed. Well, then.</p><p>I always did want to be part of something special, Spann thinks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welp. Spann idolizes Chromeskull way too much, and Chromie is edgelord supreme and doesn't realize how much of an idiot he is sometimes. But that's okay, one day they'll figure stuff out. (The masculinity comment in particular is based off what I think Spann would conclude about Jesse's own self-image, seeing as he's a woman killer. Guy's got some issues there. I might more rightly place those issues on the male-power-fantasy end of the writers, but it has to figure into her observation somehow).</p><p>Communicate in your relationships (people should say when they are sorry.) and use safewords in your games, guys. Don't be these two.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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